Snow Angel
by beating-wings
Summary: When Sam leaves to get supplies, Dean decides to teach Cas how to have fun in the snow.  Destiel fluff.


"And you're sure you'll be alright on your own?" Asks Sam for the third time from his position in the doorway. It had snowed heavily the night before, with another snowfall predicted for later in the day. The brothers had decided to check into a motel, rather than risk being stranded on the road, but they needed to stock up on supplies in case they were snowed in. Sam had been volunteered by Dean to head out to the nearest store a few miles away. Dean rolls his eyes and makes a shooing motion towards the door.

"I'm not five, Sam. I can take care of myself for a couple of hours." He grunts, grabbing a woolen hat and a thick pair of gloves to prove his point. "Besides," he adds, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder, "I'm not on my own. Cas is here too."

Sam follows the arm movement to where Castiel is sitting on one of the grotty motel beds, his head cocked to one side as he follows their conversation, a look of confusion marring his features.

"Dean is not an infant, Sam." He states in agreement, obviously puzzled by his concern. Dean smiles smugly from the corner and Sam has to restrain the urge to sigh. Seeing that he's not going to get anywhere, Sam leaves, hoping that he can get back from the store before Dean manages to do anything stupid.

Back in the motel room Dean makes a beckoning motion towards Castiel, wiggling the gloves teasingly in his direction.

"Come on then, Cas," he grins. "We've got to get going!" Castiel gets up and walks towards him hesitantly.

"I was not aware we were going anywhere. Sam seemed quite explicit when…" Dean cuts him off by grabbing his hand and gently pulling a glove over his fingers. Castiel stills. "Dean, wha-"

"Can't have you catching a cold, Cas," Dean explains as he smoothes the glove down on Castiel's hand.

"Angles don't catch colds," replies Castiel, mystified by Dean's behavior. Dean doesn't seem deterred as he continues to dress Castiel in what seems to be an amalgamation of every piece of knitwear the Winchesters had accumulated in all their years on the road. Finally, after looping a scarf several times around the angel's neck, he paused to admire his handiwork.

"There." He nods decisively, before grabbing Castiel by the hand and dragging him to the door.

"Where are you taking me?" Asks Castiel, his voice slightly muffled by the muff Dean had placed on him. Dean chuckled as he pushed the door open and led Cas out into the empty car lot.

"We're going to play in the snow, Cas." He states in a tone that Castiel has learnt to recognize as Dean's 'this should be common knowledge to you' voice.

"Won't that be wet?" He questions, still unsure about the plan. Dean laughs out right this time, and Castiel smiles along with him, glad to be a source of cheer, even if he's not quite sure how.

"That's what the gloves are for," says Dean, still grinning slightly. "Now get a move on, I want to build a fort…"

Despite Castiel's feelings of apprehension, he finds he does enjoy playing in the snow. Or at least, he enjoys playing in the snow with Dean. He listens carefully as Dean explains the proper way to build a snow fort and laughs when Dean manages to slip as he bounds through the snow. He helps Dean to craft a man from the snow, rolling balls of snow across the ground until they reach his thighs and piling them one on top of each other. They call their snowman Sam.

After a while, Castiel notices that although he's wrapped up in several layers of clothing, Dean's only wearing his jacket and a holey pair of gloves. He unwraps the scarf from his own neck and tucks it almost reverently around Dean. Dean stops talking as he feels Castiel's fingers slide around his shoulders, stroking the soft wool as he gazes inquisitively at Cas. With a start, Castiel realizes he's still holding the ends of the scarf. He doesn't let go. The seconds trickle by as they look at each other: Dean still stroking the scarf, Castiel still holding onto the ends. Finally, after what feels like an age, Castiel allows instinct to take over. Gently, ever so gently, he tugs on the scarf, pulling Dean closer to him. When Dean's face is millimeters from his own he pauses again, unsure of what he's meant to do next.

Dean stops stroking the scarf and places one hand on Castiel's chin. Hesitantly, he leans forward, closing the last of the space between them, and kisses Castiel carefully on the lips. Castiel squirms in surprise at the first contact of Dean's lips, shocked by how cold they are, but it's not long before he too lets go of the scarf, and wraps his arms around Dean. The kiss is brief, but they stay locked in their position for several minutes after the kiss, arms wrapped around each other. Foreheads pressed closely together. It's only when they hear the sound of an engine that they break apart.

Sam is back. He casts them both a suspicious look as he gets out of the car.

"What have you two been doing?" He asks as he heaves one of the shopping bags out of the impala. Dean smiles, winking at Castiel as his brother turns to grab another bag from the car.

"I've been teaching Cas how to play in the snow," he says. Sam snorts and removes yet another bag from the car.

"I hope you didn't force him into a snowball fight," he grunts, picking up the shopping bags and beginning to walk back to the motel.

"Nothing like that," grins Dean. He grabs Cas' wool covered hand and together they walk back to the motel, following in Sam's footsteps. "I've discovered a new favorite. Snow angles."


End file.
